One year ago, Brad Pitt was in a terrible bicycle accident. Not more than five minutes after he left the house, my phone rang and when I answered the woman on the other end said “your husband has been in an accident, the ambulance is on the way, you should probably get down here.” It is interesting how something like that seems to move everything in life into fast forward, while at the same time pushing the pause button.
The first few days were a whirlwind of ambulance, emergency room, chest tubes, x-rays and pain meds…followed by operating room, more x-rays, epidurals and the intensive care unit. While all this was happening, our lives felt like they were at a stand still. Life outside the hospital was still going on though. I remember feeling angry when I would take a break to go home for a shower and I would see people walking around, shopping, going out to eat and being “normal.” We used to be normal. We should be the ones walking around the Plaza and enjoying the art fair. That is “our” weekend dammit. We look forward to it every year! We know which booths to visit. We know what food to eat! Why can’t we be there? Argh!!!
Six ribs fractured in multiple places, a crushed collar bone and a collapsed lung. That is why.
But then I would take a step back and realize our situation was only temporary. And I would think about people with chronic and terminal illnesses and how their “normal” is definitely not normal. And how their loved ones have been in pause mode for a very long time. Perspective. I gained perspective.
By this point you are probably thinking “Oh sweet baby Jesus! Where did all this introspective, diary writing come from? What did I get myself into? Where is the usual lighthearted post about penis shaped mushrooms or pranks on Brad Pitt?” Well, give this a minute. It will lighten up. I promise.
So, yeah, despite all the pain he was in, we made the most of the situation. We were thrilled when the epidural finally worked against his pain. I was overjoyed the night I realized the recliner I had been sleeping in actually pushed all the way back. I could actually lay down! We celebrated when Brad Pitt finally pooped. Success! And, even though there were future doctor visits and surgery, we were more than excited when he finally got to go home. We ate a lot of Chipotle and Buca di Beppo during that time. But it took awhile before we ate any ribs. That just seemed… wrong. Funny. But wrong. (It didn’t take too long before we started eating ribs again. We do live in the best city for BBQ, you know, so it was unavoidable.)
A couple weeks ago (before the anniversary of the accident) I came across the *perfect* shirt for Brad Pitt. Looking at it, you may say “well, duh, Halloween is around the corner.” But I say, “No way! Old Navy knew Brad Pitt’s accident anniversary was approaching and specifically designed this shirt for him. It just makes sense!” Look at those ribs! That collar bone! So nice and sturdy.
I had to buy it. So I did. And he wore it yesterday. On the anniversary of the accident. And we went out to eat. We had ribs.
Pork ribs, not human ribs. That would be disgusting! Jeez. What kind of people do you think we are?
I think this is the beginning of a great annual tradition honoring Brad Pitt’s ribs. Maybe in future years we can snack on some collar bone and lung, too. Well, maybe not lung. That really grosses me out.
Ribs. We’ll stick to ribs.